


The Leech

by franscats



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franscats/pseuds/franscats
Summary: Something evil invades Cascade and Sentinel and Guide are called upon to stop it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for 2016 Spook Me.  
> It is rated PG for violence.

**October 29 (Twilight) - 5:30  
**

The sun had just set when HE stepped out of the nest HE had made in the old boarded up tower of an abandoned factory, northeast of the city. HE looked up and snarled with disgust at the streaks of red crisscrossing the sky.

Twilight wouldn’t hurt him, the few strands of pink light crossing the sky were not bright enough, but that didn’t mean HE liked it. It was a reminder that things could still inconvenience him.

Turning to the west, HE glanced at the city of Cascade. None of the brethren had ever hunted the nights of Cascade. HE didn't know why. It was a large enough city. Looking out at the lights in the distance, HE decided it would be his territory, his hunting ground. He would claim this city before another of his kind could.

He realized it was both easier and harder to lay claim to a place than in centuries past. In earlier centuries, cities were small, people were easily missed, and changes provoked an immediate response by those who believed in and hunted the brethren. In this time, with homeless and faceless numbers of people and people who scoffed at the old beliefs, it was easier to hunt, but those who might hunt him had more power, so caution was needed.

There were not many of his kind. The myth that three bites could make one such as HE was, after all, just that, a myth. To become one such as HE was not easy and the few that chose his existence, lived far apart, each the master of his own hunting area.

Tonight HE would enter Cascade and make it his.

**October 29 – 6:00pm**

Blair Sandburg gave a dismal sigh as he pulled his Volvo into a parking space across from 852 Prospect. It was pouring outside and he had the option of sitting in his car and waiting for the rain to slow or getting soaked running into the building. Deciding he didn’t want to see if he could out wait the rain, he gathered his stuff together and opening the car door, jumped out and took off across the street and into the building. Once in the building, he shook water out of his long curls as he got in the elevator and shifted his stuff around so he could pull out his key to the loft. Looking at the key, Blair considered that he might not need the key if his roommate was home. Jim Ellison, a sentinel – a man with five heightened senses, could probably hear Blair’s car coming down the street and could open the door. That is, if he wasn’t in the shower, or sleeping, or doing a host of other things.

As it happened, Blair did need the key; Jim wasn’t standing there with the door open. Blair unlocked the door, dropped his keys in the basket by the door, hung up his jacket on the peg and turned. The greeting he was about to give Jim lost, as he frowned. Jim was standing by the balcony door staring out at the city and Blair wondered if he was zoned.

A sentinel could zone out, get lost in a sense, if he concentrated on one sense for too long. It was why sentinels had guides, companions who could watch for zones and bring them out of it. It wasn’t something that happened to Jim very often. He rarely tried to focus on one sense when he didn’t have his guide, Blair, around.

Walking over, Blair reached out a tentative hand. “I’m not zoned,” Jim whispered, not turning from his view.

“You okay?” Blair answered.

“There’s something wrong, something’s out there that shouldn’t be, something…” he paused, “something dangerous.”

Blair turned and followed Jim’s gaze, looking out at the approaching darkness. He wanted to say it was some weird sentinel reaction to something he had come in contact with or eaten, but Blair knew better. He’d been jumping at shadows all day and as both a guide to a sentinel, and a practicing shaman, he knew something was wrong. Jim was just confirming what his own senses had been warning him about all day. “Can you tell what?” he whispered and Jim shook his head.

Blair considered Jim for a moment thinking, if, whatever it was, it was affecting Jim, it was something that needed to be dealt with immediately.  Deciding on a plan of action, he turned to the kitchen. “I’m going to make dinner,” he announced. He’d make something easy to digest because tonight he would try and reach out to the spirit plain for help.

Jim turned and stared at his guide’s back, surprised that Blair wasn’t asking him what he’d been in contact with, what he had eaten, but then deduced Blair was being affected by whatever it was, too. “You feel it,” he stated as he followed Blair into the kitchen and Blair nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve been on edge all day

“Whatever it is,” Jim found himself glancing again at the windows, his voice sounding cryptic.

Dressed in light, loose fitting clothes, Blair lit scentless candles before sitting down, lotus style, and resting his hands on his legs. The loft was quiet, Jim had gone up to his bed, and Blair was in his own room beneath the stairs. Taking slow, even breaths, Blair pushed his uneasiness aside and drifted into a meditative state, hoping for answers to what was going on.

_Blair, expecting to find himself in a blue spirit jungle, was surprised when, instead, he opened his eyes and found himself in a dark forest. He could feel the ground beneath his four paws and realized he was in the form of wolf. Padding quietly forward, he stopped near a clearing formed by a dark, oily looking pool surrounded by a bunch of dead, grotesquely misshapen trees. He wanted to go forward and explore the area, but his legs wouldn’t obey. Lifting his nose, he scented the air. Despite the forest being warm, this area felt cold. It smelled of death and decay and he noted no insects made noises by the pool, no birds sang - anything alive avoided it. As he watched, two young men walked out from the opposite side of the forest. They were chatting in some tongue he didn't recognize and play fighting with sticks, laughing and taking swipes at each other as they entered the clearing and froze. Both looked at the pool and Blair guessed that they were daring each other to go near the dark pool._

_Slowly, they stepped closer and poked the oily surface with their sticks, releasing even more of the noxious odor when the pool rippled. Wrinkling their noses, the two young men dropped the slender wood. The one young man moved back, turning towards the trees, but the other moved closer, peering down into the slimy surface. He was about to turn and follow his friend, when he tripped on a rock and fell forward his arms breaking the surface of the foul smelling liquid. He cried out and his friend turned._

_In that moment something unexpected happened. Blair watched in horror, whimpering, as what looked like leeches slid up the young man’s submerged arms covering them in the muck before dissolving into his skin and disappearing. The young man stood, reeking of the pool, and Blair could see the oily dark, liquid moving through his veins, moving up his neck and covering his face.  Then his body began to alter, his teeth lengthening as the young man screamed in pain and fear._

_His friend ran over to help him but stopped in horror as a creature, no longer resembling his friend, or anything human. turned. Cold, dead eyes stared at the young man, and slowly a malicious smile appeared across the creature's face.  Moving forward, the smile turning into something hideous, claws outstretched, the creature, grabbed his friend, ripped open his throat, and lapped at the blood.  The sucking sounds making Blair shudder...  
_

 

Sitting up, his breathing harsh and rapid, Blair looked around before giving a sigh of relief. He was in the loft, not some ancient forest. But the vision, such as it was, told Blair what they were hunting.

**October 30 – 7:30am**

Jim, up early and getting ready for work, was sipping coffee in the kitchen with half an ear to the news when the phone rang. “Ellison,” he answered.

“Morning Jim,” he immediately recognized the voice of his boss, Simon Banks, Captain of the Major Crimes Squad.

“Good morning, Simon,” Jim switched off the television. A phone call at this hour had to be work related and he automatically focused all his attention on the phone.

“I need you to go to a crime scene,” Simon answered, his voice sounding strained. “Don’t come into the office; go straight to the wharf down by Sutter. A body was found half buried in the weeds not too far from the jogging trail. CSI is there.”

Jim waited knowing there had to be more. After a moment Simon added, “From what I’ve heard, it’s a gory scene Jim, the victim’s throat was ripped open by something. The media hasn’t gotten wind of it yet, but when they do…”

“I’ll head over there,” Jim answered, his voice showing no sign of emotion.  Jim, a long time soldier, knew how to deal with gory scenes. 

“Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jim answered and hung turning to his roommate as Blair came out of his room. “I’ve got to go, Chief. What’s your schedule like today?”

Blair, a doctoral student and part time consultant with the PD, headed for the coffeepot and some much needed caffeine as he considered his day. “I have a class until lunch. I can meet you right after.”

“I’m going to a crime scene,” Jim answered, glad Blair wasn’t going with him to look at what Simon had called “a gory scene.” Blair saw enough of the dark side of humanity as his guide. “Call me before coming over, I might not be in the office,” Jim headed to the door and grabbed his keys from the small basket beside the door before turning back to Blair. “This is the start of it, whatever it is,” he stated cryptically, before disappearing out the door and heading for his car.

Blair watched him go and then turned his eyes to the sunlight streaming through the window. _Jim would be fine_ , he told himself, _it was still daylight._

It took about 30 minutes for Jim to reach the crime scene, 10 minutes of it hiking from a jogging path, down through a weeded area to the water’s edge, to join the CSI unit.

The area for miles around Sutter was part of a nature preserve. There was a jogging path a mile and a half back from the water’s edge and a conservation center, but the area between the jogging path and water’s edge was covered with overgrown vegetation, six foot high weeds blocking the water’s edge from view.

As he left the trail, Jim noted signs of one set of heavy footprints deep in the dirt near the top and his sentinel vision easily picked up a blood trail heading down. Following the trail, Jim reached the coroner as he was covering a body. Coming over and squatting down, Jim nodded to the coroner who automatically pulled back the sheet to expose the body.

It was an older man, dressed in a slightly worn jogging outfit. There was blood on his clothing, but not nearly as much as expected considering his head hung at an odd angle having nearly been severed from his body. “How was his head severed and what gnawed at his neck?” Jim asked as his gaze moved over the body, noting bite and scratch marks.

“I’m not giving an official answer until the autopsy, but I think it was done by someone’s hands,” Dan Wolf, Chief Coroner, answered.

“A perp did this, with his hands?” Jim couldn't quite hide his disgust.

Wolf nodded. “I would guess with some kind of claw tool. I can see scratches that look claw like but those are hand prints,” Wolf indicated bruises on the man’s arms ending in red streaks. “The weird thing is I don’t know what became of the blood. There’s not enough here to account for that kind of wound.” Wolf glanced up in the direction of the jogging path. “The jogger must have come down here from the jogging path last night, but why I don’t know.”

Jim shook his head. “There’s a blood trail leading down,” he indicated the ground some feet back as Wolf looked over. Realizing the others couldn’t see the blood trail in the overgrown grass, Jim shrugged. “I was trained as a tracker in the army.”

Wolf nodded, accepting the explanation before ordering two of his assistants to take a closer look in the grass where Jim indicated. “A small fisherman saw the body as he was rowing up to the dock. If he hadn’t seen it, we would never have found it.”

“What time did this happen?” Jim stood and Wolf joined him.

“I’ll have a better idea after the autopsy, but at a guess, sometime around nine last night,” he answered as he handed over a clear evidence bag with a wallet in it.

“There would still be people up on the path at that hour. We’ll have to get a patrol to interview some people tonight and find out if they saw anything. You know, if someone did this with his bare hands, he’d be covered in blood. Someone should have noticed that,” Jim answered, putting on a pair of gloves and reaching in the bag to look over the wallet. “Mark Howard,” he read off the driver’s license before flipping through the bills in the wallet.

“This wasn’t a robbery case,” Wolf pointed out. “There’s money in the wallet and he’s wearing an expensive watch. And the weird thing,” Wolf added, “is there’s no sign that he fought with his attacker, no DNA under his nails. He was in fairly good shape, you would expect him to have fought his assailant.”

Jim nodded, glancing up in the direction of the jogging path, quite a distance back. He already knew something that Wolf’s team would discover as they followed the blood trail back up to the trail. The jogger had been carried down to the water edge. There was only one set of footprints coming down through the earth. Which meant the perp was very strong and had probably incapacitated the victim in some way on the jogging path. “When will you have some information?”

“I should have some information late this afternoon,” Wolf paused and glanced around and then quietly added, “There should be a lot more blood at this scene, Jim. The perp must have taken it.”

Jim nodded his understanding, his expression grim, as Wolf’s assistants laid out a body bag and moved Mr. Howard into it.

**October 30 - 1:00pm**

Jim was just getting off the elevator when he heard his guide say, “Look man, I can’t give you Samantha’s phone number. If you want it, you have to get it from her. I’m not getting involved in some love triangle.” Jim shook his head. Blair had to be talking with Detective Rafe. Rafe had been trying for some time to get Samantha in forensics to go out with him.

After leaving the crime scene, Jim had gone to Mr. Howard’s house and spoke with his sister. Mr. Howard and his sister, Barbara Howard, shared a small apartment not far from the jogging trail. Barbara had been frantic when he arrived. She had called the police the night before when her brother didn’t return from his evening jog and she had actually gone out looking for him. At ten, there had been a few people still on the jogging trail and none had seen her brother.

After interviewing her, and giving her an edited version of what had happened to her brother, Jim was just heading back to the PD when Blair called and offered to grab lunch and meet him at the PD.

Walking into the bullpen, Jim was not surprised to see Rafe standing in front of Blair. “Sandburg,” he called, interrupting the conversation and saving Blair from Rafe's wheedling.

“Oh, hey Jim. Your lunch is on your desk.” He gave Rafe a quick smile and walked over to Jim. “I got you corn beef on rye with mustard.”

“Thanks, Chief,” Jim pulled out his wallet but Blair waved his hand away.

“You pay for enough of my lunches.”

Jim nodded, but instead of sitting down, headed for Simon’s office, beckoning Blair to come with him. Knocking, Jim heard “Enter” and pushed Blair in ahead of him before closing the door.

“Was the crime scene as bad as I was told?” Simon asked, looking over his senior detective and Jim nodded, his face grim.

“Someone nearly tore off the head of the vic and though you won’t get official confirmation of this till later today, the perp drank the vic’s blood.”

At those words, Blair bit his lip, debating whether or not to say something, and deciding not to. He would talk to Jim about the vision before mentioning anything in front of Simon.

“This time of year always brings out the nut jobs. So we’re looking for someone deranged,” Simon answered.

“A very strong someone,” Jim answered as he took a seat. “He carried the vic down into those weeds. I’d like a couple of uniforms to interview joggers tonight but the vic’s sister, Barbara Howard, went looking for him last night and found no one who’d seen anything.”

“I’ll arrange it,” Simon agreed. “Any leads?”

“Nothing at the scene that I could find. I’m waiting to hear from Dan Wolf.  He’s doing the autopsy now.”

“Make this a priority case,” Simon answered. “If there is someone out there killing people and drinking their blood, we need to get to him before he acts again.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jim stood and turned to leave, but turned back, for one moment, his mask dropping, his face showing his concern. “This one is going to be bad Simon,” he said and then turned to go.

Back in the bullpen, Blair considered talking about his vision, but knew it would be better to talk in private and decided to wait till they finished eating. Taking a seat beside Jim, he ate his turkey and bean sprout sandwich while trying to decide how to explain his vision.

The pair had just finished their sandwiches and Blair had decided to appropriate an interrogation room and tell Jim what they were actually hunting when Jim got a call from Dan Wolf asking that he come down.

Glancing at his partner, he hung up the phone. “I’m going to go down and see Wolf in autopsy. I’d like you to call Conover and find out if any mental patients, with some kind of blood fixation, were released or escaped.”

“Ah…Jim, I do have to talk to you about that.”

Jim held up a hand, “After I get back.” He turned and disappeared out the door of Major Crimes. Blair watched him go for a minute and then turned back to the computer, thinking, just maybe, Jim had the right idea – find someone who admitted to being a vampire. Somehow, Blair didn’t think it would be that easy but he began the search, glad he didn’t have to view Mr. Howard’s body.

Down in autopsy, Jim walked in and glanced around. Dan Wolf was alone in the room. “Jim,” he called and stepped away from Mr. Howard, covering him with a sheet. “I’ve only begun a preliminary investigation but there’s saliva in the vic's throat. Someone drank the missing blood.”

“Enough for a DNA sample?”

“Possibly,” Wolf nodded. “I’ve already packaged it for analysis.” Wolf paused and looked around. “This perp incapacitated an average size man, in a heavily trafficked area, then carried him down to the enclosed area, **without anyone seeing him** ,” Wolf emphasized.  “Then tore his throat apart and drank his blood. This is not a normal person. At the very least, he has to be high on something and the fact that no one saw him do it...” Wolf shook his head. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re hunting a vampire.”

“Or someone who thinks he’s a vampire,” Jim answered. “Could he have drugged the vic?”

“I don’t have a toxicology report back yet, but that still doesn’t explain not being seen.”

Jim nodded. “Any evidence besides the saliva?”

“No. As I told you at the crime scene, the vic didn’t even put up a fight.”

“He might not if he’d been drugged.” Jim turned to leave. “Let me know when you get the toxicology and let me know if the saliva turns up anything.” Jim headed back up to bullpen hoping Blair had had some success with his search.

**October 30 - 2:00pm**

Blair winced at Jim's volume as Jim practically roared. "You think we’re hunting what?” his voice carrying disbelief.  They were standing in an interrogation room, Jim staring at him in disbelief.

Blair glanced around the small interrogation room he had just dragged Jim into and motioned for Jim to lower his voice. “I’m telling you, this is for real. I saw it in a vision last night.”

“There are no such things as vampires, Sandburg.”

“Or spirit animals, or sentinels or shamans or ghosts,” Blair countered. “Jim, it’s a vampire, your senses have been wired because as a sentinel somehow you’re aware that this creature is dangerous and encroaching on your territory. As your guide and a shaman, I’ve been on edge too, in part because I’m your guide and can sense your unease, and part because I’m a shaman. Last night’s vision was very clear. It’s a **BLOOD, SUCKING, VAMPIRE!!!** And we have to hunt it down and kill it.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Jim demanded. “You’re talking about vampires and committing pre-meditated murder.”

Blair nodded, brushing his hair back nervously, “Yeah, I do. But you have to realize we’re not talking Bela Lugosi and ‘I vant to suck your blood.’ We’re talking about a monster that tears peoples’ throats apart and then drinks their blood while they’re dying. There’s no way we are going to be able to arrest this creature. We’re going to have to hunt him down and kill him.”

Jim ran his hand over his face, taking a deep breath. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. “Look, let’s just say I accept your argument. How does someone track down,” he paused, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, a vampire?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Blair admitted. “I think we have to call on your spirit animal.”

“Sandburg,” Jim growled.

“No, listen. This is a hunt for something unnatural. We need specialized help to find it. Tonight, **WE** ,” Blair emphasized the word knowing Jim would not like what he was about to suggest, “are going to meditate and call on the spirits to help us.”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind that while you investigate the spiritual side, I’ll keep working in this realm.”

Blair could hear the sarcasm, but he ignored it and patted Jim’s arm, “That’s fine, I think we’re going to need both investigations to win.”

**October 30 - 4:15pm**

Jim was working at his desk, Blair having left to "prepare the loft," when his phone rang. “Ellison,” he answered succinctly.

“Jim, I’ve got some information for you,” Dan Wolf said on the other end of the phone.

“Anything I can follow up on?”

“Not really. I got a preliminary tox screen on Mr. Howard. There were no drugs in his system or in the saliva in his neck.”

“Thanks, Dan, let me know if you find anything else,” Jim answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Blair’s theory took on more weight. Reluctantly, he admitted, at least to himself, that just maybe, Blair was not delusional.  A normal man would not have carried Howard down to the weeds without someone seeing or hearing.  Jim shook his head deciding this was just a waking nightmare.

**October 30 (Twilight) - 5:30pm**

Jim walked into the loft and stopped in his tracks. The blinds to the balcony had been drawn and, in the fast approaching night, the loft was lit by a number of candles scattered about the living room. Automatically dialing up sight, Jim put his things down and surveyed the room catching the faintest scent of sandalwood.

“Sandburg?” he called and Blair emerged from his bedroom carrying a CD which he put in the stereo. “Hey, Jim. I’m getting things ready. Why don’t you go take a hot shower, so you can relax and then put on some comfortable clothes. We can start as soon as you are ready.”

“I think a beer and some Wonderburger would relax me a lot more. No make that a bottle of scotch, Sandburg.  Believe me, nothing is going to relax me.  Let’s just get this over with,” Jim answered, but Blair shook his head.

“Come on, man, you are as tense as you can get. I can see you grinding your teeth from here. Go take a shower and change while I finish setting up.”

With a sigh of resignation and the hope that Blair knew what he was doing, Jim went upstairs.

**October 30 - 6:00pm**

“Just breathe slowly and listen to the drums,” Blair whispered in his most soothing “guide” voice. “Close your eyes and let the drum beat carry you.” Jim was seated on the floor, his legs crossed in a half lotus position, his hands on his knees, palms up. “Keep the slow breaths,” Blair encouraged, “it should feel almost like a light zone.” He watched as Jim’s breathing eased, not for the first time, wishing he could hear Jim’s heartbeat the way Jim could hear his. “Just ease away from the loft and visualize a black jaguar.”

As Blair instructed Jim, he sat down facing Jim, their knees touching and gently rested his hands on Jim’s. Following his own advice, he slowed his breathing, visualizing Jim and a black jaguar, and when he opened his eyes, he was in the clearing of a blue jungle, Jim beside him. Relieved that this had worked, he glanced around as Jim waited impatiently at his side.

“Now what, Sandburg?” Jim started to ask, but stopped as a black jaguar walked into the clearing and then turned back into the growth.

“Now, we follow the jaguar,” Blair answered, and sentinel and guide set off through the jungle, following the feline. Soon they reached another clearing and ahead stood an ancient stone temple. The jaguar jumped onto the steps and turned to face them and then morphed into Incacha, the Chopec shaman who had passed on the way of the shaman and, in a later vision, the care of the sentinel to Blair - not that Blair would ever tell Jim he needed to be cared for. Jim would be incensed at the idea that someone might think he needed anyone. But it didn’t change the fact that he was a sentinel and he did need a guide.

“Why have you come?” the spirit asked in a commanding voice.

“We need help to find an evil creature that has entered our territory,” Blair answered and the warrior pointed a spear at Jim.

“The sentinel can find the evil. In times of great need a sentinel can call upon his spirit animal to assist in finding the evil. Follow your spirit animal to the evil and imprison it.”

“And how do we imprison this creature once we find it?” Jim asked.

“The shaman will know how," Incacha pointed the spear at Blair.  "He has already had a vision that shows how to contain the creature. Once it is contained, daylight will kill it. But it will take the power of both sentinel and guide to stop this creature. Stay close to one another,” he advised.  "Join your strengths.  It is a time for sentinel and guide to protect their territory."

With that, the jungle dissolved and Jim and Blair found themselves in the loft living room.

Shaking his head to clear it, Jim glanced around, his senses running over the loft to make sure all was well before he stood and stretched, offering Blair a hand up. “You’ve been shown how to stop the creature?” Jim asked as he turned on some lights and began blowing out some of the candles.

“I had a vision, I told you about it, but the vision showed me how it was made, not how to stop it," Blair answered, sounding thoughtful, and to Jim's trained ear, nervous.

“The answer must be in your vision, Chief,” Jim said as he made his way to the frig. Opening it, he rummaged around for some food before grabbing two beers and declaring he was ordering pizza.

After placing the order, Jim sat down at the table and indicated Blair should sit. “Maybe we had better go over your vision again.”

Agreeing, Blair again described what he had seen and Jim, a bit more open about what he was hearing, listened to the description of the young man becoming a monster. “So, you are saying this was some kind of leech that took over the young man.”

“I guess a leech is a good description,” Blair agreed. “It absorbed into him, took over him, and then did what leeches do, sucked blood.”

“So, we need to look at how to stop a leech,” Jim mumbled and Blair's head shot up as Jim's thoughts triggered and idea.

“That’s exactly right,” Blair agreed, excited. “We need salt.”

“Salt?”

“Salt. Salt kills leeches.  It sort of dissolves them.”

Jim considered Blair's idea.  “Yeah, in the army when we went into the jungle, we were told to use salt to get leeches off, if they got on us,” Jim agreed. “But we’re not talking about little pests.”

“We’re talking about a big leech,” Blair argued. “And salt has been used to trap and keep away evils spirits for centuries. It’s a purifier. We trap this thing in a circle of salt until daybreak and poof it’s over.”

“And how exactly do we trap this,” Jim refused to use the word vampire, “creature in a circle of salt?”

“We're going to have to open a circle, get the creature inside and then close the circle,” Blair answered. “I think to do that we might have to set one of us up as bait. I’ll do some research on salt tonight. Tomorrow we hunt. Maybe, we can find him during the daylight and not have a problem.”

**October 31 (Halloween) – 7:30am**

Jim knew there was a problem when, just like the day before, the phone rang at 7:30. “Ellison,” he answered.

“Jim,” he recognized Simon’s voice immediately, “there’s been another murder.”

“Where?”

“Over by the old abandoned stone quarry. The body was found under a pile of rocks by someone walking a dog. It’s just like the previous murder. The throat was ripped out, only this time, I’ve been told the vic may have been tortured before being killed.”

“I’m on it, Simon,” Jim turned as Blair came out of his bedroom. “I’ll go straight there.”

“We have to catch this lunatic, Jim. before people start to panic."

“Yes, Sir,” Jim agreed, “I’m on my way.”

“Another murder?” Blair asked quietly, before making his way to the coffeepot.

“By the old stone quarry,” Jim answered. "It struck again."

Blair grabbed a travel mug and turned. “I'm coming with you, but we need to stop and pick up sea salt – a lot of it.”

“Sea salt,” Jim repeated, less than enthused, as he grabbed his keys.

**October 31 (Halloween) – 1:00pm**

Jim climbed into his truck, and with a last look at the crime scene, his face grim, headed back up the road.

Blair, sitting beside him, was focused on keeping his stomach contents in his stomach after seeing the remains of Mrs. Jane Henderson. Like the first body, the second had her throat torn open but, unlike the first, Mrs. Henderson had been “played with,” to quote Dan Wolf. One of her legs had been ripped open to keep her from running and there was evidence that she had tried to crawl away from her attacker.

They rode for some time in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, neither sure what to say until Jim pulled into a spot on a quiet street and turned to Blair. “What do we do to catch the...monster?” he asked, giving in to the inevitable conclusion that this was outside the realm of normal and would have to be treated as such.  Though he hated to think he was hunting a vampire, he felt an obligation to do what was necessary to protect his tribe. Even acknowledge that a vampire could be loose in Cascade.

Blair swallowed, pushing the image of the killed woman out of his mind, and turned to Jim. “Let’s switch seats, I’ll drive.”

Jim nodded and got out of the truck as Blair scooted over the seat. Getting behind the wheel he turned to Jim. “Close your eyes and slow your breathing.” Blair waited till Jim did as instructed. “In your mind, visualize the black jaguar and call it for help.”

Jim frowned, ready to argue but Blair pushed, “Do it. Call out mentally.”

Taking a deep breath, Jim did and his head tilted as he heard an answering growl. Opening his eyes, he blinked. On the road before him was a black jaguar. “It’s there,” Jim whispered, in near disbelief.

“I can see it,” Blair answered, a bit of awe in his voice. This was the first time he had ever seen Jim’s spirit animal outside of the spirit realm. “It hears you, ask it to help you find the creature.”

Jim nodded and closed his eyes and then heard Blair shift the truck into gear as he moved the truck forward. Opening his eyes, Jim watched as the jaguar leaped and headed east.

“Can you still see the jaguar?” Blair asked.

“Yeah, it’s moving east,” Jim answered.

“Keep your eyes on the jaguar and let me know if I need to make any turns.”

Two hours later, Jim and Blair left the truck, each carrying a ten pound sack of sea salt, and followed the jaguar to an old abandoned factory on the northeast suburb of Cascade. At the door, the large feline disappeared and Jim and Blair glanced at each other and up at the building. “The building isn’t structurally sound,” Jim stated, shifting the weight of the salt as his eyes moved over the ruins of what once was a factory. “We’re going to have to be careful.” Moving forward, he examined the lock on the door and then kicked it, the door handle splintering. Pushing open the door, Jim immediately lowered his sense of smell as the scent of decay hit him full force.

“He, it, whatever, is here. I can smell him.”

“Keep your sense of smell down,” Blair answered, checking his watch. It was 3:30pm. “Sundown is at 5:50, we have two hours to set the trap and finish,” Blair whispered following Jim into the building and waiting for his eyes to adjust so he could see inside the gloomy space made by the boarded up windows.

“We have to catch him tonight, otherwise he’ll kill someone else,” Jim answered, his gaze moving around the large first floor. For Jim there was more than enough light, his eyes automatically compensated for the lack light. For Blair, there wasn’t much light, but there was enough streaming in through rotting boards to see rusty, broken, mangled machinery on the floor. It was obvious that rodents had taken over the building, Jim and Blair could hear a few scurry away and Blair looked at the outline of a broken staircase, the twisted, rusted railing jutting up in a weird angle.

“He must be on the second floor,” Jim whispered. “The staircase is booby-trapped, there are metal spikes sticking out of it. Let’s set up.”

“Okay, I’ll make a part of the salt circle and stand in front of it. You can wait behind that piece of machinery,” Blair waved at what looked like twisted metal, “and finish the circle once the creature comes down.”

But Jim shook his head no.  “You’ll be the one hiding, Blair. You’re the shaman, I’m the warrior – as you’ve told me repeatedly – you get to close the circle, I’ll face the monster.”

“Jim,” Blair started not liking the idea of Jim as bait, but Jim held up a hand.

"Blair, we're both dead if we fail.  So, let's do this the way it should be done.  You're the shaman."  Jim paused and tilted his head, listening.  “I hear movement upstairs. You better start that circle,” he pulled out his gun.

“That won’t stop this creature,” Blair hissed, even as he opened the salt, annoyed that he couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he started making a wide arc behind Jim. In the little time they had to take in and adjust to what they were after, he had been focused on finding the vampire. But the realization of what they were doing, and that Jim was bait, was hitting him.  If he was wrong, Jim would be killed.

“Yeah, but it might slow him down and keep him from noticing you,” Jim answered, calmly.

“Be careful,” Blair whispered moving around  so the circle had just one area unformed. As he poured the salt in a giant arch behind Jim, Blair whispered a prayer that this would work. Finishing and discarding the almost empty sack, he opened the second sack and slipped behind the machinery as a dark shape descended the stairs.

Blair had to keep himself from coughing as the fetid stench of decay filled the room, even as Jim turned and looked at the creature, his gun held high in both hands. “Stop right there, Cascade PD,” he commanded.

“That will not work on me,” came an almost sibilant hiss, as the dark shadow moved away from the staircase and looked at Jim, cold amusement in its black eyes. “It’s interesting that you recognize what I am and still try to arrest me.” The creature laughed.  “Foolish mortal, I do not answer to your justice.”

“You are in my territory and you are under arrest for the murders of Mark Howard and Jane Henderson. Get down on your knees, hands on your head," Jim stated, coldly, careful to keep his senses down and his voice steady.  Even with his sense of smell dialed all the way down, he could smell death.

"Mortals do not have territories," the vampire answered, stepping closer.  Jim watched as the vampire stopped and frowned at the salt circling the floor behind Jim and Jim could tell the creature was hesitating as it turned back to Jim.

"Sentinels do," Jim challenged, realizing he would have to keep the vampire focused on him so Blair could finish the circle.  And to do that, he would have to let the creature get a lot closer.

"Ah, so you are a sentinel.  I was chased from my first home by the sentinel of my tribe.  I will be happy to drain you and think of him."

Behind the machinery, Blair could tell that Jim was goading the creature to bring him closer and he shivered, hating that Jim needed to do that, as the shape moved across the floor, almost within reach of Jim.

“Shoot if you wish, I will drink your blood in either case," the vampire answered, amused at the idea of Jim trying to fight.

Blair, forcing down panic that the vampire was even this close to Jim, knew it was time to pour the salt, before the creature could grab Jim, and moved out from behind the machinery.  Lifting the bag, he kept his gaze away from the creature toying with Jim, and focused on the task at hand, getting behind the vampire unnoticed.

“You don’t run,” the creature sounded surprised and, with some relief, Jim could see the vampire was unaware of Blair's movements. “You’re brave and arrogant like all sentinels, but it is of no matter, your blood will be doubly sweet since it is the blood of a sentinel.”

At those words, the creature twitched, as though sensing Blair behind him, and Jim realizing he needed to do something to keep the vampire from noticing Blair, fired his weapon directly into the creature’s chest, the creature again, looking over him.  “You see, your puny weapons have no effect on me, sentinel.”

Blair knew, what time they had was up, the vampire was going to attack Jim, and, mentally crossing his fingers and offering up a quick prayer, started to pour the salt and close the circle, desperately wishing it would go faster, but knowing he had to do this carefully.

The creature, hearing him, spun and snarled at Blair. But even as the creature reached a claw out for Blair, Jim, realizing the vampire was about to attack Blair, grabbed the only weapon that might work - the discarded sack of salt, and threw the salt left in the sack at the vampire.

With a screech of fury, the vampire turned back to Jim, his eyes turning red and his fangs extending and Jim guessed this was what Howard and Henderson had seen just before they died.

Blair, forcing himself to ignore what was going on, and steadying his hands, finished pouring the salt, and closed the circle.  “Get away, Jim,” he yelled in a panicky voice, taking a step back, and Jim, seeing Blair was done, jumped back, careful no to break the circle of salt.

The creature moved forward to grab Jim, a claw reaching out to rip flesh, but stopped as an invisible wall prevented his hand from reaching beyond the circle.  Screeching again, the sound both angry and desperate, the vampire moved around the salt circle, trying to find an opening, even as Jim pulled Blair close.  “We have to get the boards off the windows,” he shook Blair, to get him to look away from the creature and focus.  Blair nodded taking a shaky breath.  In his mind he kept thinking that thing had gotten way too close to his sentinel.

“Okay,” Blair said, breathlessly, and started for the windows on one side of the room, as Jim reached the windows on the other side of the room, and they both began tearing down the wooden boards, letting light stream into the warehouse.

In minutes, the warehouse was filled with the late afternoon light and, as the light reached the vampire, he screamed, smoke rising from his body.  The vampire desperately redoubled his efforts to get out of the salt circle, shrieking in anger and pain as the sun continued to pour over him, but his movements were becoming desperate and slower.

“He’s dissolving, just like a leech,” Jim whispered horrified, as he watched the vampire getting smaller, smoke continuing to rise while red and black fluid pooled around the floor within the salt circle.

Finally, when nothing but fluid remained, the pooled fluid ignited, leaving nothing behind but ashes, just as the sun set.

Blair and Jim stood side by side transfixed on the scene, Jim equating it to the morbid need to look at an accident while driving down the road.  Blair, beside Jim, whispered a soft prayer, for the young man who had once been, as the vampire dissolved to mothing.   

"I'm going to gather the ashes in the salt sack," Blair stammered and stepped forward, being careful, to step over the circle.  Jim went to help, but Blair shook his head.  "Stay back, this is the shaman's job," he waved Jim away and took the sack, still with some salt in it, and shoveled the ashes in letting them mix with the salt.

“We should drop the ashes with the salt into the ocean,” Blair said, finally breaking the silence. “I don’t know if we really need to do it but the salt water-”

“Can’t hurt,” Jim finished. “And then we have to find some way to spin this tale. There’s no way we can tell anyone we hunted down a vampire.”

**October 31 (Halloween) – 8:00pm**

Jim handed Simon a bottle of beer as the Captain entered the loft. “What’s up? You found something?” he asked and Blair and Jim glanced at each other.  After spreading the ashes into the sea, they had sent a small derelict boat out into the water with an oxygen tank on it.  Jim had then used a rifle to blow up the boat and called the coast guard to report an explosion.  They would report that they chased a perp down to the water and he had gone out into the bay where his boat had exploded.  That would explain the lack of a body.

“The threat is gone, Simon. We tracked the perp to an old warehouse near the bay and he jumped into a boat. The boat exploded and-”

“Are you handing me a line, Jim?” Simon interrupted, suspiciously.

“Yes, Sir. You don’t want to know what actually happened, it was a sentinel thing, but the perp is gone.”

“Just tell me, the perp wasn’t a vampire.”

Jim and Blair glanced at each other and back at Simon, neither answering immediately. Finally, Blair shrugged.  “Think of it as a leech, Simon,” Blair suggested.


End file.
